I went silent.
He was right.
That made everything harder.
Three days later, trouble arrived at the mansion.
A black Mercedes pulled up.
Mrs. Alvarez entered the library.
“Christopher.”
Her face was pale.
“Your uncle is here.”
Christopher looked at me.
“Take the side stairs.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You are if you want your children safe.”
That stopped me.
I left through the service corridor.
But I didn’t go far.
I stood behind the half-open pantry door and listened.
Marcus Bennett entered laughing.
He sounded charming.
That made him more frightening.
“Nephew.”
Christopher’s voice was flat.
“Marcus.”
“I heard you hired a new nurse.”
“Caregiver.”
“A pretty one?”
My skin crawled.
Christopher said nothing.
Marcus continued.
“You should be careful who you allow inside this house.”
“Why?”
“People get curious.”
My heart began racing.
Marcus knew.
I was sure.
After he left, I rushed upstairs.
Christopher was furious.
“You were listening.”
“Yes.”
“I told you to leave.”
“And I didn’t.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Rachel, this isn’t a game.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He suddenly slammed his fist against the wheelchair armrest.
“My brakes failed because someone tampered with the car.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The police never proved it.”
He looked at me.
“But I know.”
I sat down.
Christopher continued.
“The night of the crash, I was driving to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“A man claiming to have information about Ryan.”
My skin prickled.
“He called from Wisconsin.”
The rehabilitation center.
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No.”
Christopher looked away.
“The car went through a barrier before I reached the meeting point.”
I covered my mouth.
For the first time, the full danger became real.
This wasn’t an old family mystery.
Someone was still protecting it.
A week later, we made our move.
Christopher arranged a medical trip to Milwaukee as cover.
I went with him.
Mrs. Alvarez remained in Chicago with security near my children.
We drove to the rehabilitation center listed in the records.
My hands shook the entire way.
At the front desk, Christopher gave a false name.
The receptionist searched the computer.
“No Ryan Mercer.”
My heart sank.
Then an older nurse walking behind the desk stopped.
“Ryan?”
I turned.
She studied me.
“You look like him.”
My knees nearly failed again.
“You knew him?”
The nurse glanced around.
